A Tale of Two Cities Supporting Xinjiang

No sooner had Nurbahati finished speaking than Zhang Jianguo looked up, waved his hand without hesitation, and refused outright: "Old Nurbahati, your suggestion is unnecessary, it won't work."

Nuerbahati's fake smile froze. He wanted to persuade him again, but Zhang Jianguo continued, "Firstly, the institute is indeed short of funds recently, so we should save money on special training programs whenever possible."

Secondly, even Professor Cao has approved the use of the I Ching, so there's a good teacher right in front of us. Why go to such lengths to find one elsewhere? Isn't that just a waste of resources?

Zhang Jianguo's tone was firm, leaving him no room for negotiation. "Let's do it the way I said before. Zhou Yi will be in charge of teaching. We'll start by practicing animal simulation surgery to build a solid foundation."

As the department head, you should take the lead in learning and set an example for the young people below you, instead of always thinking about those superficial things.

These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over Nurbahati, chilling him to the bone.

He thought he could use the excuse of further study to delay time and steal credit, but he didn't expect to run into a solid wall and be given a stern reprimand by the dean.

His anger surged up instantly, his chest felt tight, but he didn't dare to vent it in front of the dean. He could only suppress his anger, force a stiff smile, and reply, "Okay, I understand," before turning around and quickly walking out of the office.

Once back in his office, Nurbahati could no longer contain himself.

He glanced at the glass on the table and smashed it on the floor, shattering it into pieces.

Immediately afterwards, he grabbed the folders on the table and threw them one after another onto the floor, scattering papers everywhere, muttering under his breath, "Zhou Yi, it's you again, you little brat, trying to mess with me, huh? Just you wait!"

After venting for a while, he finally calmed down a little.

But the dean had already given his word, so even if he was unwilling, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and participate in the simulation training hosted by Zhou Yi.

If anyone dares to disobey, it would be disrespectful to the dean, and they would really lose their position as director.

As soon as the training began, Zhou Yi stood in front of the operating table wearing surgical scrubs.

He picked up the laparoscopic instruments and moved them skillfully and nimbly across the animal heart specimens.

The field of view on the screen was clear and stable, and the instruments accurately passed through the simulated small incision on the right side, finding the location of the mitral valve in a short time.

The subsequent sewing and knotting were all done cleanly and efficiently, without any unnecessary delays, making it a pleasure to watch.

The young doctors watching nearby were stunned and began to admire in hushed tones.

"My goodness, Professor Zhou is amazing! He can make such a small incision with such precision!"

"Compared to traditional open surgery, this is so much easier. Patients will definitely recover faster and suffer less after surgery."

"You can't go wrong learning from Teacher Zhou; this technique will definitely be mainstream in the future!"

Nurbahati stood at the back of the crowd, listening to the exclamations of praise, feeling a pang of bitterness in his heart.

He curled his lip in dissatisfaction and muttered under his breath, "Hmph, what's so hard about pretending? It's just about finding the right angle and practicing a few moves."

"I've been performing mitral valve surgeries for ten years. I've seen it all, what can't I learn such a simple thing?"

Soon it was Nurbahati's turn to take over.

He deliberately put on an air of confidence as he took the instruments from Zhou Yi, secretly competing with himself: It's just a minor incision surgery, right? I'm sure I can do it better than Zhou Yi. Let these young people see who the core of the department is.

But as soon as he started, Nurbahati realized something was wrong.

The view from the laparoscopy was reversed, completely different from his usual open surgery where he could see directly with his eyes. He had to stare at the screen to find the lesion, and his eyes and hands couldn't keep up with the pace at all.

The tools in his hands were like unruly puppets, impossible to control.

He habitually used the force of an open abdominal surgery, and with a slight push forward, he punctured a large hole in the mitral valve model simulating the heart.

"Director, please be gentle!"

A young doctor nearby couldn't help but kindly remind him: "This small incision surgery on the right side is different from the traditional open surgery. It requires stability, accuracy, and skill. Doctor, you need to change your way of exerting force."

You can't use your arm to brace yourself; you have to use the strength of your wrist to make subtle adjustments, otherwise you can easily puncture the surrounding tissue.

These words struck a nerve with Nurbahati, and his face instantly turned red to the roots of his neck, filled with both shame and anger.

He glared at Zhou Yi fiercely, his tone angry and his voice rising several decibels: "Do I need you to teach me? I've been performing surgeries for so many years, do I need a young kid like you to tell me what to do?"

Isn't it normal to make a mistake the first time? Don't make a fuss. Go and focus on practicing your own skills!

Xiao Wang shrank back after being yelled at, and dared not say another word.

The young doctors around them also quieted down, exchanging glances furtively, and the atmosphere suddenly became somewhat awkward.

Nuerbahati took a deep breath, suppressing his panic, and picked up the equipment again.

However, in the next few attempts, the situation not only did not improve, but got worse.

Sometimes the camera pans around inside the chest cavity, but it still can't find the precise location of the mitral valve.

After finally finding the right spot, I couldn't control the force when tying the knot. Either the knot was too tight and damaged the model, or it was too loose and came undone.

The most outrageous time was when he accidentally poked the instrument into the pulmonary artery model next to him, creating a hole.

Sweat streamed down his face, soaking the back of his surgical gown, which clung to his body, feeling sticky and uncomfortable.

He wanted nothing more than to throw the equipment in his hand on the ground and turn around and leave.

But he knew that if he really left, it would be tantamount to admitting that he was no good, and he would lose even more face in the department. So he could only grit his teeth and continue to suffer at the operating table.